


The Paris Chronicles

by RainbowDoom



Series: Let's Rewind and Try it Again [2]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Othar's Tweets, Paris (City), The sequel Y'all asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowDoom/pseuds/RainbowDoom
Summary: Paris is everything Gil dreamed it would be right down to having his best friend at his side again like nothing ever happened. Except it had happened, so why was Tarvek being so damn Nice, and what is Colette up to? And how far can Gil trust his new friends. Four years of freedom, but even Gil Holzfaller can not escape the looming consequences of Politics and Destiny.





	1. The World Comes to Paris Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I started writing that sequel everyone wanted. I've got a lot of stuff written. I was gonna finish writing the Paris Chronicles before I posted anything, but honestly I need the motivation so here's chapter 1, or actually Chapter 1 part 1, because I hit 5k and decided that was long enough for one chapter. There will be The World Comes to Paris Part 2 then three more chapters and an epilogue. Hopefully, after that I can maybe write my way through canon, we'll see. I attempted to insert line breaks, so if you're using a text reader let me know how that worked out.

_ In this world Paris is the last to fall. Lucrezia, who spent a good amount of time in Mechanicsburg, with a functioning Castle, fears Paris. She knows the Master’s reputation and though the few times she’d been to Paris she had seen nothing of the control and strength he was rumored to have; she still feared it. She wasn’t the only one who believed so wholly in the Master’s strength. As the Baron’s forces first fell, then turned against the world, everyone who could, fled to Paris.  _

_ In the end the Master was weak. He could no longer control the city himself, had not in centuries. When he tried, when he did everything he could, it killed him. When the Master fell his favorite child picked up the pieces. Colette hardwired her way into the system. The attempt pushed her to break through unlocking her spark. Under the Baron’s Peace, spark breakthroughs had been managed and controlled in a way they’d never been before. Over the years people had forgotten what an uncontrolled breakthrough was like; how dangerous it was. They remembered when Colette Voltaire, on the verge of saving Paris, caught fire and let herself immolate as she fought for control of her city. _

_ Paris fell and the Other won. But, here and now, Paris is alive and well. The Master reigns and no one has yet noticed the holes in his control. Here even the Baron Wulfenbach has no power. Here the Storm King conspiracy is constrained, forced to play by the Master’s rules or be banished from the center of Europa. It is in Paris that Tarvek Sturmvoraus and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach find their freedom. And here it might be that they find their salvation.  _

_ Or so Tarvek Sturmvoraus hopes. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach though only hopes for four years of freedom before he officially becomes his father’s heir. He does not have any plans involving meeting Tarvek Sturmvoraus again. _

  
/

The last person Gil thought he’d ever see was standing before him smiling. It’d been ten years since he’d last seen Tarvek Sturmvoraus, but he‘d recognize him anywhere. He had the same bright red hair, the same brown eyes, the same smile. He’d traded the giant spectacles for tiny pince nez. He was dressed to the nines. He looked like a prince, a royal fop. All Gil could see was an eight year old boy.

“Tarvek.” Gil said his surprise letting the familiar nickname fall out.

Tarvek for his part kept smiling. It looked like a real smile, but Gil knew better. 

“Are you in Niadh’s Intro to Mechanics class then?” Tarvek asked.

Gil had no idea what Tarvek was playing at. Acting all nice and friendly, like they were old acquaintances. He wasn’t acting at all like, like he felt like Gil did. All angry and frustrated and scared and yet still desperately happy to see him again. It frustrated Gil. He wanted to yell at Tarvek, scream at him. He couldn’t though, not here in the street with Tarvek being so blasted polite. Why was Tarvek being polite, what did he know? Gil had no idea what to say, luckily Wooster answered for him.

“Yes, actually. You too, then?”

“Quite. It’ll be good to have some friendly faces.” Then Tarvek held his hand out to Wooster, “Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Ardsley Wooster, likewise.” Wooster and Tarvek shook hands, “And you already know Holzfaller.”

“Yes, though it’s been quite some time.” Tarvek smiled congenitally and pulled out a pocket watch, “We best be going. It’s bad form to be late on the first day.”

Wooster nodded his agreement and the two headed off down the street. Gil followed in confusion. Wooster was Gil’s roommate. He’d already been moved into the apartment Gil was renting when he’d got there. A roommate seemed a bit dangerous, but Father had insisted on the illusion of poverty. It was all well and good for the Baron to pay to send his orphan spark to university, but to put him up in private accommodation was another thing entirely. So, Gil had been shunted to the dorms. The dorms had roommates. Gil had his own bedroom, but he shared a bathroom and common area with Wooster. 

All said Gil was in the nicest student accommodation, some of the cheaper ones were little better than barracks. Gil had a wealthy patron, Wooster apparently had enough wealth in his family to afford a nice foreign education. He claimed to be of the untitled gentry, that his father was a soldier and his mother a medical doctor. No history of the spark in his family. The story checked out, as best as Gil could tell. Their contacts in England were of questionable loyalty. Wooster though, had been suspiciously friendly and accommodating. Gil wasn’t quite sure if he could trust him.

Tarvek at least he knew not to trust. He’d learned that particular lesson already. The first thing Gil needed to know was what Tarvek wanted from him. No that was wrong. The first thing was to convince Tarvek that Gil wasn’t a threat. Or a useful tool. Tarvek was sneaky and a brilliant liar, it would take Gil ages to figure out what he wanted. By then it might be too late to stop whatever plan he had going. Gil had to preempt him, which meant eliminating himself from whatever game Tarvek was playing.

It would be hard, to convince Tarvek he was useless to him. Tarvek knew Gil enough to know he was smart. There would be no hiding Gil’s spark it was too strong and the only reason Gil had to be here in Paris anyways. Gil couldn’t play the idiot. Other options then. He could play the villain. No that could make him more useful rather than less. Besides, the Baron couldn’t be supporting him then. Gil thought harder. He would have to act in a way that would make Tarvek dismiss a strong spark. What kind of person would not be worth his time? Gil thought in that moment of Bang. His appointed bodyguard for his time in Paris. That gave him an idea.

  
/

Niadh’s Intro to Mechanics class was a bore. Gil had mastered the syllabus by the time he was ten. It was embarrassing really that anyone needed to be taught this stuff, when it was so obvious. Well, the less time Gil spent doing school work the better. He could devote time to personal projects instead, and to his new plan. The Plan: Convince Tarvek Gilgamesh Holzfaller is a Useless Degenerate and More Trouble Than He is Worth. That plan would require a lot of drinking and a lot of partying. Worst of all it would mean letting Bang drag him to all sorts of embarrassing places to do all sorts of embarrassing things. She would be delighted. 

Since the lecture was useless Gil turned his attention to his current problem. Tarvek had ended up sitting with them for class. Wooster sat between Tarvek and Gil acting as a sort of buffer. Wooster, Gil noticed was taking meticulous and precise notes, in English. Tarvek was scribbling furiously on a series of papers, but clearly not paying any attention. Gil figured Tarvek was a spark. He could check, but he’d bet the empire on it. Which meant this lecture was also abysmally easy for him. The furious scribbling was probably the result of an idea that had to absolutely be written down before it was forgotten.

Gil watched Tarvek furiously scribble, he didn’t look like he was entering a spark fugue. He looked focused and a little frustrated, but also rushed. Like he only had so much time to write and a lot to say. Which was silly, the lecture was an hour and a half long. There was no way Tarvek had a complicated enough idea that it would take longer than that to right, without having triggered a fugue. 

Unfortunately, Gil couldn’t get a good look at the papers. With Wooster between them it would require the kind of leaning that would draw attention. Certainly the attention of the girl on the other side of Gil who was watching him rather closely. Gil turned to look at the girl. She was pretty and when their eyes met she batted her eyelashes. Well that gave him an idea. 

It was shockingly easy to flirt with the girl without catching the professor's attention. They weren’t seated particularly far in the back. Actually, now that Gil was looking they were seated in the precise middle of the lecture hall. He wondered if that had been Tarvek’s or Wooster’s decision. He should have been paying more attention. He would next time. For now though the girl, a Lady Therasia Lindgren, was thoroughly charmed by Gil. It was shockingly easy. Gil only had to flirt a little and the girl was all over him. 

By the end of class Gil had gotten the girl’s card, an invitation to a party, a date, and a kiss. He was rather proud of himself. The plan was working perfectly. Well almost perfectly. Wooster looked a little scandalized when the girl kissed Gil goodbye, but Tarvek simply looked amused. Gil smirked at them in response. 

“Well that class is a bit pointless.” Gil said as they left the lecture hall mostly to fill the silence between the three of them.

“You think all the classes are pointless.” Tarvek grumbled in response.

Gil gave him a confused look. He didn’t even have an opinion on his other classes yet.

“What?”

Tarvek looked away abashed, “I mean these intro courses are mostly designed for non sparks who still need a baseline knowledge. For us sparks it seems rather basic and useless.”

So, Tarvek knew he was a spark. He was probably also smug about it. The bastard had always said Gil would be a spark. Gil was annoyed at his presumptuousness. Tarvek didn’t know him, maybe he would find the other classes informative. The Institute d’Extraordinaire was the foremost university in Europa. They taught plenty of sparks, there was no reason to anticipate a complete lack of difficult or advanced material.

By the end of the week Tarvek had proven himself correct. He also was annoyingly, persistently, present. He was in almost all the same classes as Gil. Tarvek was pursuing a focus in fine mechanics and clanks, while Gil preferred biology and medicine, but they were still in most of the same pointless intro classes. Tarvek would arrive to class either with Gil, because apparently him and Wooster were now friends, or right after him; settling into the seat next to Gil. The most annoying part was that he was infuriatingly pleasant. 

By Friday, Gil was annoyed enough to intentionally pick a fight. When Tarvek raised his hand to correct a professor, Gil leapt to the professor’s defense. This dissolved the entire class into a full debate, the professor who clearly had some debate training proceeded to apply his pointer stick to particularly enthusiastic dissenters. Tarvek kept his focus on Gil as the debate raged around them, and while Gil attempted to apply such advanced debating techniques as banging Tarvek’s desk and thrusting hastily scrawled equations in his face, Tavrek applied the kind of debate they teach in political science classes and used the less respected tactics of clearing his throat softly and saying things like “have you considered..”, “that’s an interesting perspective, but”, and the particularly underhanded “I’m not entirely convinced of the credibility of your source”. 

It meant that instead of the argument dissolving into a fist fight and shouted imperatives like all respectable debates, the two of them appeared to be a rather civilized calm amongst the chaos. Tarvek’s underhanded and dirty debate tactics might have been a suitable source of condemnation, if the debate hadn’t been broken up by the Campus Civility Society. Apparently, debates were limited to seminars and strictly banned from lectures. So well the rest of the class received a thorough dressing down and community service assignments, Tarvek and Gil got to have an early lunch. A lunch Tarvek even insisted on paying for, because he started the debate. 

Gil was many things, but too proud to accept free food was not one of them. He found himself grouchily eating a truly superb sandwich at a cafe near campus. The cafe was a poncy place full of all the poshest of university students. Gil was pretty sure they would’ve thrown him out on his ass if he’d been accompanied by anyone else. Tarvek might be a dirty traitorous sneak weasel, but he was a prince. Gil was beginning to wonder if that was an acceptable reason to hate someone. Though, the fact that Tarvek was eating his sandwich with a fork and knife, cutting it into small bite sized portions certainly was. The fact that he managed to do so without undermining the sandwiches structure despite being impressive, only made watching him eat more horrendous. 

Gil focused determinedly on his sandwich instead, dreading having to make actual conversation with Tarvek. He had no idea how to make small talk, let alone make small talk with your traitorous ex-best friend from ten years ago who seemed overly determined to be nice to you. His plan to appear like a lecherous drunkard was in action, but there was only so much one could do in five days. He’d flirted with every girl who so much as looked at him twice, but it only seemed to amuse Tarvek. Maybe he’d find the drunkard aspect more off putting.

“Can I get a bottle of chardonnay?” He smiled at the waiter who was unfortunately male, he wondered if asking a waitress to join them would scandalize Tarvek, “Anything for you Sturmvoraus?”

“Chardonnay is fine.” Tarvek said, though he was eyeing Gil.

“Two bottles of Chardonnay then.” Gil said still smiling.

Instead of being shocked Tarvek chuckled, “I didn’t think the debate went that poorly.”

Gil resisted the urge to growl in frustration. Instead he smiled, “Maybe I’m celebrating my victory.”

That at least got Tarvek to narrow his eyes, “Victory, I’m hardly convinced that the Utkin equation is the most efficient method of determining the best gear ratio for Limburton pneumatic systems.”

Gil thankful not to have to resort to discussing the weather rose to the challenge, “Oh don’t tell me you favor the Granville method?”

Tarvek’s smile turned sharp, “What if I do?”

This debate was far more casual than the one that occurred in the lecture hall. Gil only raised his voice when a point absolutely required emphasis. Tarvek only resorted to gesticulating wildly with a fork when he thought Gil was being intentionally obtuse. Gil was even forced to concede a point by pouring Tarvek another glass of wine. Tarvek in his turn conceded to Gil’s superiority by ordering them tiramisu. It was so enjoyable, Gil forgot he was only supposed to pretend to be drunk and actually indulged in the wine which was quite good.

He wasn’t so distracted as to not notice Tarvek doctoring his glass when they opened the second bottle. He swiped Tarvek’s in retaliation. Gil wasn’t sure if he should point out that he’d noticed. Tarvek could infer all sorts of things from the fact that Gil was both watching for his glass to be poisoned, and was capable of catching Tarvek doing it. He almost didn’t notice, Tarvek was shockingly fast. Gil though, had been watching him make a point about torsion rates by twisting his fingers through the air, thus missing the distraction of a girl bumping into Gil’s chair, and catching the quick movement of Tarvek’s hands. 

Tarvek paused the glass an inch from his mouth and sighed, “It was an antidote, you buffoon. Someone poisoned the bottle. If I wanted to kill you belive me I’d be far more discreet.”

Gil actually hadn’t thought Tarvek was trying to poison him. He’d assumed it was a drug meant to loosen his tongue. Tarvek wanted something from him and it certainly wasn’t his death. Gil briefly considered pretending that he had thought it was poison, but he was enjoying the strange camaraderie Tarvek seemed so keen on maintaining. Besides he couldn’t stand the smug expression on Tarvek’s face.

“For the record I thought you were drugging me.” Gil responded sounding petulant despite his best efforts.

“To what end?” Tarvek asked as if they were having a conversation as mundane as one about the weather.

Gil wondered briefly if such conversations  _ were _ mundane for Tarvek.

“For the same reason you’re being so  _ nice _ .”

Gil probably should’ve been more delicate. He probably should’ve twisted his words so that Tarvek would tell him without ever realising Gil had asked. Gil had never been good at that type of manipulation. Despite all his father’s teaching and lessons, GIl was never good at battles of words. He hated them too. It was ridiculously complicated and meant being polite to people who had tried to kill you. Gil was a far more direct person.

Tarvek was a sneaky weasel, who’s best weapons were words. The direct approach at least had the effect of throwing him off kilter. If only because Tarvek didn’t expect people to be direct. He set his glass down and just looked at Gil for a second. Gil looked back baffled. Then Tarvek laughed softly. Gil felt his face heat. 

Tarvek was  _ mocking  _ him. That conniving little weasel.

Before Gil could break into an angry tirad Tarvek spoke again.

“You would think it was a scheme. Just like you thought my trying to help you” Tarvek jabbed a finger at Gil, “find out who you were was a scheme. Well, surprise Gil. There is no scheme. I’m simply trying to be your friend. Because for some reason, that I’m having trouble remembering right now, I actually like you as a human being. Shocking I know, but still, somehow true.”

Tarvek had not made eye contact once during his entire little speech. He gesticulated wildly and made all sorts of dramatic facial expressions, but never actually looked at Gil. That was curious. The first rule of lying which both Tarvek and his father had taught Gil was to make eye contact. People are more inclined to trust you if you make eye contact with them. Tarvek had maintained eye contact throughout their previous conversation, but now he was avoiding Gil’s gaze.

It made Gil want to believe him. But it had been Tarvek who’d taught him about eye contact. He could just as easily use the knowledge against Gil. As convincing as the little speech was Gil didn’t let himself fall for it. Tarvek had already used this play on Gil, and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach did not make the same mistake twice.

“Yeah. Right. The prince of Sturmhalten, wants to be friends with the Baron’s pet spark.” 

Tarvek smirked at him, “Don’t sell yourself short Holzfaller. You’re no ordinary spark. And hardly anyone’s pet.”

Tarvek was making eye contact again. Smirking at Gil with some indescribable emotion on his face. It made Gil abruptly uncomfortable. He had to resist the urge to look away and instead meet Tarvek’s smirk with a glare. They stared at each other in a silent challenge for a few minutes and then suddenly a chair was being pulled up to the table.

Gil relieved tore his gaze from Tarvek, to find Colette Voltaire settling into a seat at their table. Without prompting a waiter settled a large slice of strawberry cheesecake in front of her along with a cup of coffee. Gil had read reports on Colette Voltaire. She was sixteen and supposedly the master’s favorite child. Well Colette wasn’t technically a student at the Institute d’Extraordinaire she took classes, and sat for all the exams. No one at the university would dare tell her she couldn’t. On top of that she was incredibly intelligent skilled in both mechanics and espionage. She was the kind of person you didn’t want to make an enemy of, certainly not in Paris.

“Mademoiselle Voltaire, how kind of you to join us.” Tarvek smiled at her.

Tarvek’s smile was different from the one he kept insisting on flashing at Gil. This one was empty somehow, like a forged painting, perfectly beautiful but void of any emotion. Gil hated it. Whatever, act Tarvek was putting on for Colette was different from the one he was playing out for Gil. It made Gil nervous and frustrated. 

“I would never miss the opportunity to speak with you Prince Tarvek.”

Colette’s smile was dazzlingly charming. It made Gil want to buy her another slice of cheesecake and she wasn’t even looking at him. No wonder she was the Master’s favorite. She had probably been the type of child to have all the adults cooing over her and slipping her sweets when the others weren’t looking. Gil immediately put himself on guard. 

“Nor I you, mademoiselle.” 

Tarvek was still smiling that empty smile when he turned slightly to face Gil again. Gil resisted the urge to grimace and let a curious smile hover on his face instead. 

“May I introduce my friend, Gilgamesh Holzfaller?”

They were not friends. Gil managed to glare at Tarvek out of the corner of his eye while smiling at Colette as she offered him a hand. He kissed the top of it and tried his best to be charmingly polite.

“A pleasure to meet you Monsieur.” 

Colette does look pleased to meet Gil. Whether the emotion is genuine or not remains to be seen. Still Colette Voltaire is the kind of person Gil actually wants to be friends with. Beyond the strategic benefits of befriending the Master of Paris’s favorite daughter, Colette is extremely intelligent. Gil hasn’t met anyone who could keep up with him, besides a certain weasel, and Colette seems like she might be able to. She’s not a spark, not yet anyways but she comes tantalisingly close.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Gil replied trying to make the phrase not sound flirtatious, he is trying to scandalize Tarvek, but Colette is only sixteen and Gil has some standards. Colette at least seems amused, Tarvek is still maintaining the empty smiling expression. Gil wondered what Collette is doing here. Did she join them just to have an excuse to be introduced to Gil? Does she know who he is?

“I heard you were involved in that unsanctioned debate that occurred today, your highness. Yet, here you are enjoying a nice lunch well the rest of your classmates are stuck hunting mimmoths in the basement laboratories.”

Tarvek’s empty smile transformed to one that was slightly smug. Gil felt himself relax a little at the change. Smug he could handle.

“We started it actually. Though when your sitting calmly at your desk while the lecture hall around you dissolves into chaos, people tend to assume you weren’t at all involved with the chaos.”

Tarvek pointed his statement with a sip of his wine.

Colette sat up straight at that her smile twisted wicked.

“All to have a quiet lunch with your boyfriend. You are devious Prince Tarvek.”

Gil didn’t spray the wine in his mouth all over the table, but it was a near thing. Tarvek almost dropped his glass and his face went bright red. Colette held her wicked smile for three whole seconds before she burst out laughing. Tarvek directed a glare at the teenager, and looked like he was seriously considering stabbing her with his dessert spoon. 

“You should see your faces.” Colette gasped out between laughter, “I’m kidding.”

Gil felt himself relax. Colette was just being a teenager, mocking them for her own amusement. 

“Hilarious, Mademoiselle. Did you join us just to make that exciting little joke?” Tarvek asked determined to appear unfazed despite the red still flushing his cheeks.

Gil smiled to himself as he noticed that Tarvek’s ears now matched his hair. It was nice to see Tarvek’s careful poise shaken. It made him like Colette more, that she could disarm Tarvek so easily. Even if she had done so at Gil’s expense as well. 

“Not quite. Though it has certainly made coming over here worth the trouble.” Colette smiled that brilliant smile again, “I am actually here with an invitation. I’m inviting you to join my study group. We meet on tuesdays and thursdays at 7pm at Le Chat Vert. To celebrate the start of term though were meeting for drinks tomorrow at 9, same place.” Colette’s eyes tracked to Gil, “Do bring along Monsieur Holzfaller.”

Gil blinked owlishly at Colette. Joining her study group was the ultimate status symbol at the university. Duels were fought over the right to join. Only the best and brightest of the students were allowed into the elite group, all of them handpicked by the Mademoiselle herself. They’d only been here a week. Yet, here Tarvek was being invited and Gil by proxy.

Did Colette know who he was? The Master did. Father hadn’t told him, but the Master had taken one look at Gil and just sighed heavily. Whether, the Master had found it prudent to keep that information to himself or had shared it with his favorite child was another matter. Was Colette inviting Gil, because she knew who he was? Or because of some other reason, like the three rampaging sparks he’d already managed to stop since arriving in the city? 

Better yet, why was Colette inviting Tarvek? Tarvek certainly hadn’t been stopping rampaging sparks. He would never risk ruining an outfit for that. Or appearing undignified. Tarvek was a spark and a strong one but there were plenty of those at the university. It also couldn’t be because Tarvek was a prince, rank wasn’t a factor in Colette’s choices. She had a commoner in her study group. Gil wondered maybe that Colette had invited Tarvek as an excuse to invite Gil. 

It would make sense if Colette knew he was the Baron’s son. She had probably originally planned on waiting longer to invite Gil. Perhaps until after he’d established just how strong of a spark he was. Maybe even set up an incident where Gil would be seen publicly rescuing her. Instead, she’d stumbled on him having lunch with Tarvek and seized on the opportunity. 

Tarvek wasn’t the kind of person Gil would’ve wanted in his own private study club. Someone more comfortable poisoning his own relatives then sharing secrets with friends, was not the kind of person one wanted to invite into their inner circle. The again if Colette knew who Gil was, then she probably knew all about Tarvek and his family. The matriarch of the Valois clan lived in Paris afterall. It had once been the political seat of the Storm King’s empire. If Colette was half as good as the rumors implied, she’d know how dangerous Tarvek was. 

It seemed to great a risk to take just to have an excuse to get closer to Gil. No, Colette had to want both of them. There had to be a reason she wanted a sneak weasel like Tarvek in her study group. Something other than that he was a strong spark. Perhaps, Colette was inviting Tarvek, because he was a backstabbing sneak. She needed to be close to him to know what he was planning. 

Now that Gil thought of it, it was a good plan. If one stuck around Tarvek they were liable to catch on to his dastardly plans, and be perfectly positioned to put a stop to them. A position as his friend for example, would be particularly advantageous to interfere with his plotting. Tarvek did say he wanted to rekindle their friendship. Gil could go along with it, make sure not to let to many of his own secrets out and suss out all of Tarvek’s devious plans. 

He nodded to himself, satisfied at the decision only to realize he’s missed a lot of the conversation. The second bottle of wine was empty and so were their plates. Colette and Tarvek were discussing the best stitching for shirt cuffs. So, Gil figured he’d be forgiven for having checked out of the conversation. His own cuffs he distractedly noticed were a disaster. They’re the kind that button close instead of relying on cufflinks, he’s always losing those, and one had come decidedly undone. The other he realised must’ve dangled into the tiramisu, and he tried to subtly clean it without catching his companions’ attention.

Tarvek noticed instantly and scoffed at him. Colette giggled again. Gil resisted the urge to hide his hands and thus his cuffs under the table. 

“My apologies, Monsieur Holzfaller. We appear to be boring you.” Colette said though the apology did not sound sincere.

“It’s alright.” Gil figured that was the polite thing to say, “And please, call me Gil.”

Colette smiled at that and it looked genuine as far as Gil could tell, “Then you must call me Colette.” she stood up at that “Now I fear I have taken enough of your time, I will see you tomorrow night?”

“Of course, mademoiselle.” Tarvek nodded standing to pull Colette’s chair back.

“Of course” mumbled Gil.

“Until then.” Tarvek said bending over Colette’s hand.

“Au Revoir.” 

Gil wondered if Colette leaving meant lunch was over. A part of him that he tried to ruthlessly squash was hoping it didn’t. When Tarvek sat back down Gil had to smother a sigh of relief. Tarvek was smiling softly, almost fondly without looking at anyone. It was a good look on him, smiling like that it was hard to think of Tarvek as a conniving weasel. It also made Gil’s chest hurt ever so slightly, or maybe it was just heartburn.

After a second Tarvek looked up, “Well, now I believe we were discussing what went wrong in Baumgarten’s experimentation with molluscoid musculatature transferell to land based organisms, before we were so rudely interrupted. You had some mistaken ideas about the functionality of Mirvac's Canine Ocupai.” 

That’s not at all what they’d been talking about when they’d been interrupted. Gil however was grateful to have any excuse to remain at the cafe table instead of having to track down Bang for a night on the town. He picked up the threads of the debate easily enough. Arguing with Tarvek was familiar in a horribly painful nostalgic way. Gil doesn’t want the conversation to end ever. Even when they find themselves coming to an agreement one of them picks up a new thread and the debate continues. 

Gil ordered more wine and then another wine. He more or less forgot the drunkard thing was supposed to be an act. By the time the cafe employees began shooing them out Gil found himself struggling to stand up. Tarvek annoyingly seemed as sober as he was when they’d arrived at the cafe. Gil struggled to maintain his balance and attempted to make it out onto the sidewalk on his own.

Tarvek followed and laughed openly at Gil’s struggle. Gil didn’t hit Tarvek for it, only because he thought he might tip over if he did. He was rather a little too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ended up walking right into the closed glass door. That got laughs from the employees still left in the cafe as well. Gil stumbled backwards trying to transfer his backwards acceleration horizontally as to avoid falling into the clutches of gravity. It worked for three steps and then Gil collided with something solid. Instead of falling forward onto his face it grabbed him, keeping Gil vertical. 

“Whoop” said Gil as vertigo hit sending his vision spinning.

“You are a disgrace.” said the wall holding Gil up.

Tarvek, because it was Tarvek holding Gil steady, manipulated Gil’s body, so that Gil had one arm slung over his shoulder and Tarvek had a solid grip around Gil’s waist. Gil was aware on some level that he should shove Tarvek off him. Yell about how he could walk by himself. Instead he was suddenly aware of how he couldn’t remember the last time someone held him that wasn’t in the middle of a fight. Tarvek was warm and steady at Gil’s side, and part of him just wanted to melt on top of the other man and forget about everything else. 

Gil did not melt into Tarvek’s side, but he allowed the other man to haul him out the door and down the street with minimal protesting. Mostly, because he didn’t want Tarvek to let go. A quiet part of Gil that was still seven years old insisted that this was somehow proof that Tarvek had never betrayed him. Gil lacked the mental wherewithal to squash the little voice, but he did manage to ignore it. What he didn’t manage to ignore was the sharp cinnamon scent coming off of Tarvek. It was delicious, and made it extremely hard to resist the urge to just bury his face in Tarvek’s neck. Gil didn’t bury his face in Tarvek’s neck, but he found himself swaying towards it periodically. An action that made Tarvek grumble about “drunken sods” and briefly tightened his grip on Gil.

They stumbled down the parisian streets like this. Gil sometimes managing shuffling steps, and other times letting Tarvek haul him along. It was still early in the evening and the passerby gave them disapproving looks as they stumbled along. Gil just answered the disapproving looks with a smile, that judging by people’s reactions must’ve looked rather feral. Sooner than Gil would’ve liked they found themselves on Gil’s doorstep. Tarvek didn’t wait for Gil to unlock the door and instead rifled through Gil’s pocket’s pulling his key’s out from Gil’s pants pockets in a way that caused Gil to almost squirm out of Tarvek’s grip. 

There was a brief scuffle on the doorstep, where Gil tried to get his keys out himself. Eventually Tarvek tucked Gil under one arm got the keys out and unlocked the door.

Tarvek then promptly released GIl who made it two whole steps through the door before collapsing to the ground. This would’ve been good enough for him, the ground was rather comfy, but the door swung shut on his calves. Gil groaned and attempted to squirm the rest of the way into his apartment. It wasn’t very successful and required rather more movement than Gil had the will to perform.

“You are ridiculous.” Tarvek admonished from the doorway.

Gil attempted to come up with a proper rejoinder, something about Tarvek’s face being ridiculous that mostly got swallowed by the carpet. Before he could properly articulate his point he was being hauled suddenly upward. For a brief moment Gil’s stomach rebelled. Before the delectable lunch could make a return showing though Gil was vertical again. Than abruptly upside down. It took him a whole wasted minute to realise the expanse of blue he was looking at was in fact Tarvek’s ass. He got a whole two minutes to contemplate that it was rather firmer then he’d expected before the world spun again.

When Gil’s vision cleared again it was to the sight of the chipped paint of his bedroom ceiling, which was already becoming a familiar sight. It blurred out and in again for a bit and Gil was aware vaguely of tugging on his person. Being in bed though made him realise how  _ tired _ he was. Gil hadn’t slept the previous night distracted by Bang waking him up for mid night training. Which mostly involved Gil running for his life, while Bang laughed maniacally and threw knives at him with deadly precision. 

When Gil was able to drag himself from the edges of sleep to figure out about the tugging it was to find a blanket being pulled over him. He turned to the side and managed only to register a flash of red and blue his brain told him it was important, but failed to register why. Gil felt himself fall asleep again. Only to be brought back by a sharp pain in his neck. He rolled slightly moving onto his back. For a moment Gil thought he should be worried, but then a warm hand was running through his hair and there was brief pressure on his forehead. Gil’s mind brought up images of green hair and glittering jewelry, but then sleep claimed him and he drifted. 


	2. The World Comes to Paris Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a transcontinental flight to get you to finish something. I'm not as happy with this chapter as I was with the last one though. But, here it is enjoy.

_ Europa was a land of chaos before the Other. The wastelands were the most obvious display of this chaos. Abominations of science, some biological, some mechanical, and some a mixture of both, claimed the wastes for their own. These abominations had either outlived their creators or escaped them. Most were mindless wandering beasts. Others were simply too abominable in appearance to be allowed on the other side of the walls the Europans built to keep out the abominations of the waste. Traveling between the towns and cities in those days was not for the faint of heart. _

_ Europa after the Other is still a wasteland. But a different kind of wasteland. All the monsters in this waste are dead. Instead, there are only empty husks. A reminder that once there had been people here and they had built incredible things. There are people in Europa no longer and soon the wastes will consume even the walls of Mechanicsburg. Where thousands of armies failed, mother nature will succeed.  _

_ The last memory of the Europa that once was is a single time window hovering in a secure bunker. It shows a glimpse into the world that was, a world that perhaps might still be. The window centers resolutely on one man. What will the people of the rest of the world think when they find their way to Europa? When they crack open the bunker and make their way past the death traps, to find a small window in time and space locked resolutely on the life of one young man? _

\----

Gil woke up in his own bed, in his own dorm in Paris. Still, he spent a good three minutes staring up at the ceiling in confusion. He can not, for the life of him, fathom how he got there. He remembers vaguely, Tarvek holding him; remembers falling through his front door. But everything else is fuzzy. He remembers also, a woman with green hair leaning over him telling him a story in words GIl does not know; remembers his father pressing a kiss to Gil’s forehead, though he has never done such a thing. It is possible that his memory of Tarvek putting him to bed is part of the same dream.

Gil would sooner kiss Bang then he’d admit that Tarvek was a common enough feature of his dreams. He’d spent years wondering what he was doing, what he looked like all grown up. If he had changed at all. Gil knew the truth now, and his imagined Tarvek bled together with the reality in a confusing mix of Gil’s deepest desires and greatest fears. It was entirely possible that he dreamt Tarvek putting him to bed.

Gil though is mostly undressed, and he rolls over to find a glass of water on his nightstand. It's the kind of forethought that Gil lacked on a good day and would never manage drunk. He glared at the glass of water in suspicion. The only reasonable explanation is that Tarvek put it there. Gil's first thought is poison. But they'd already had a discussion about Tarvek poisoning him, besides it was too obvious. Hesitatingly, Gil sipped at the glass. When he didn't die or barf or start changing colors he downed the rest of it. 

Then Gil rolled back over and went back to staring at the ceiling. His head didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd thought it would. Theo's concoctions usually left him with a pounding headache. It left Gil with enough brainpower to contemplate the enigma that was Tarvek Sturmvoraus, and the temptation that was Tarvek Sturmvoraus attempting to be Gil's friend again. Gil knew better than to trust Tarvek, but part of him still remembered what it felt like for someone to have your back. Gil wanted that feeling back more than anything, and stupidly he wanted it with Tarvek. 

He can't have it though, and the more Tarvek reached out, the surer of that Gil was. Tarvek was up to something and whatever it was, it required Gil's trust. So, to thwart Tarvek, Gil just needed to keep not trusting him. He can do that. Satisfied with that decision Gil hauled himself out of bed. His stomach rolled at the motion, but his head didn’t swim and the nausea was firmly in the realm of queasy rather than eminent. All in all, rather manageable symptoms. 

Standing revealed that not only had Tarvek neatly folded Gil’s dirty clothes onto a chair, but he’d laid out an outfit for Gil to put on. Gil frowned at the clothes hanging on the outside of his dresser as if that would make them go away. It did not. Neither did rubbing his eyes really hard. Eventually, Gil sighed and added the clothes to his mental list of weird things Tarvek had done. Then he decided that he wasn’t going to think about his traitorous ex-best friend at all and was instead going to focus on anything else.

Thankfully, he had Colette’s invitation to think about. That was tonight and Gil should be ready for it. He’d need to balance his drunkard act and his sparkiness in a way that made him worth keeping in the group. Gil had a dossier somewhere on Colette’s little club of intellectuals. The Baron liked to be prepared for every eventuality and that meant preparing Gil for every eventuality.

Gil was distracted briefly by his thoughts turning to his father. The Baron would be expecting a letter soon, updating him on how classes were going and if Gil had made any worthwhile connections. Admittance to Colette’s inner circle would count as a worthwhile connection, hopefully the Baron wouldn’t be too upset that it came via a perceived friendship with Tarvek. Gil knew exactly what his father thought of Tarvek and none of it was good. 

He was so busy finding the best way to word his letter he didn’t realise he’d put on the outfit Tarvek had laid out until he was opening the door to the bakery. It was too late; he’d already been seen wearing it, there was no point in going home to change. At the very least the outfit, while being far better coordinated than anything Gil would’ve assembled himself, wasn’t overly ostentatious. If he could manage to lose the coat by nine.

The best way to ruin one’s outfit, Gil knew, was simply to spend the day in the lab. So, armed with enough baked goods for breakfast and lunch, Gil made his way to the university laboratories. Technically, freshman did not have unrestricted access to university lab space, but there were exceptions for sparks. Not giving a spark adequate lab space and materials to work with was asking for explosions and a half baked attempt to take over the city. 

Gil did have to sit down and fill out five different forms in triplicate before he got access to the labs though. No amount of shouting or threats made to the bored administrator allowed Gil into the labs without filling out the forms. When Gil tried to go in on his own she expertly applied a stapler to the back of his head. Subdued, Gil sat and filled out all the forms. They were mostly liability waivers saying he was responsible for any destruction that occurred to him, the labs, school property, or anyone else present in the laboratory space. 

Filling out the forms gave Gil a brief, horrible, flash to what his future running the Empire would be like. Then he remembered that there was absolutely no way his control obsessed father would actually willingly cede control of the empire. He’d learn to live as long as Albia first. That, of course, didn’t mean he wouldn’t shunt a great deal of work and thus paperwork onto Gil, but it did mean that the bulk of the responsibility would still be on his father. 

As soon as he finished with the forms, Gil dismissed the thought in favor of science. He spent a few hours happily constructing a multitool, something that could solder, weld, unscrew, pry open, drill and tighten bolts. It was tricky to get a condensed power source with alternating outputs built into it, and he blew up the first three prototypes, but eventually he created something that was stable. He was wondering what he should build with his new tool when someone else entered the lab.

“Hello.” said the newcomer.

Gil blinked at him for a moment, his fugue dying but still present. He smiled though, and the other man smiled back so it probably wasn’t too maniacal.

“Hello,” Gil tried and then remembered his manners, “Gilgamesh Holzfaller.”

“David Roche.” 

Gil maybe shook Roche’s hand a little too hard. The other man didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“What are you working on?” asked Roche curiously.

Gil lit up as the fugue that had mostly vanished rose up within him again. He brandished the multitool and began to explain its functions. Primarily, through demonstration. He used each of the tools options to disassemble his lab bench. He’d only gone so far as to disconnect the gas lines, when Roche dropped down into a fugue as well. Gil was only momentarily startled at the discovery that the other boy was a spark. Then he dipped back down into that place where everything just makes sense.

At first it was fun, they bounced ideas off each other, they built a better multitool. Then Gil started making leaps and bounds in ideas that even in full fugue Roche couldn’t quite follow. After a while, Gil stopped asking him for input and just started directing him around. Roche didn’t seem bothered by the fact he’d been unceremoniously regulated to minion. Even if he did, Gil doubted he’d even notice as deep in the madness place as he was.

Gil doesn’t know how long it lasts, but suddenly whatever they’re building explodes. Gil is suddenly slammed back into sanity in a confused state of alarm. Roche, for his part, is already slamming his hand against the button for the fire suppressors. Soon the room, including the two men, was covered in foam. The air hangs in heavy silence then Roche arranges the foam around his face to form a beard.

“Ah, you see gentleman that is what happens when you don’t check your resistors for corrosion prior to creating a circuit. To make a good machine one must first have good materials.” Roche said stroking his foam beard in a very good impression of Gil’s Electrical Circuitry professor.

Gil laughed. Roche soon joined in, dislodging his foam beard. The hilarity was soon dispersed by the arrival of the cleaner clanks, buzzing into the room and shoo-ing them out. The cleaner clanks were perhaps the best part of the university labs. The majority of the students at the university were nobility of some sort. Not the kind of people who so much as considered that they should clean up after themselves. Something the school on Castle Wulfenbach attempted to teach out of its students. Gil had always been responsible for cleaning up his lab spaces. Most students though hadn’t been subjected to the Baron’s ideals of responsibility. They had servants to pick up after them.

Gil at least, got to thrill in the convenience that was having someone else to clean up after your mess, without the guilt of that person being inconvenienced by said mess. Roche seemed equally cheered when the clanks appeared, but then again he seemed to be a generally cheery fellow. He also revealed himself to be a practical and quick thinking one when, upon exiting the laboratory, he revealed he had rescued Gil’s basket of food. 

“What do you say to a spot of lunch?” Roche asked proferrign the basket.

“That I’m incredibly thankful you thought to save the food?” Gil answered.

Roche grinned at that, “Food is always the priority.” Then he looked down at his foamy torso, “Though perhaps we should clean up first.”

It was only when Gil was rinsing foam off himself that he remembered his original goal in going to the lab that day. He looked down at the waistcoat he was rinsing off and frowned. It was dark blue with silver edging and made from crushed velvet. The foam had clung rather resolutely to the texture, but now that it was cleared off, the material only looked a bit worse for wear. Gil supposed the material made it one of the nicer waistcoats he owned. The majority he had were cotton or linen, he burned through clothing at an alarming rate and the requisitions department aboard Castle Wulfenbach had taken to providing him with the cheapest clothing they could without making Gil look like a vagabond. 

Gil didn’t mind the cheap simple clothing. He destroyed most of his clothes before he could develop an emotional attachment to them. These days, he was mostly happy that his clothes actually fit. Yet, fingering the damp waistcoat, Gil felt a surge of relief that it hadn’t been damaged by the foam. His coat had developed an odd discoloration down the back, and would have to be cleaned properly before he could wear it again. Ruining the coat had been the goal of this endeavor; to ruin the outfit Tarvek had picked out for him and Gil had accidently put on. So why was he so relieved the waistcoat had been salvageable?

Gil scoffed at himself and put the damp waistcoat back on. He was being ridiculous. Roche would be waiting for him outside the lavatory, there was no point dilly dallying over a waistcoat. Gil slung the ruined coat over his shoulder and stormed out into the hall and promptly almost barrelled straight through someone. Gil came to an abrupt halt and found himself face to chest with someone. That was a new experience, the only person who ever seemed to loom over Gil was his father, but this fellow was managing it. 

“Hoi there!” said the looming fellow in a shockingly jovial voice, “Careful.”

Gil peered up and up into the face of a hairy man who was smilingly brightly down at him through his thick curly beard. The fellow had to be approaching seven feet tall and was built thickly. He resembled a bear, if bears wore bright blue coats with colorful embroidery. His size made Gil think  _ construct,  _ but there was nothing otherwise telling about the fellow, no mismatched parts or visible stitching. Gil was instantly curious.

“Hello, sorry about that.” Gil said and offered a hand, “Gilgamesh Holzfaller.”

The man shook Gil’s hand almost painfully enthusiastically, “Jagir Alinejad.”

“What brings you to the labs Monsieur Alinejad?” Gil asked taking his aching hand back, wondering what a fellow like Jagir Alinejad specialized in.

“Gathering a friend. He tends to get caught up and lose track of the time, which is usually good fun, but today we have somewhere to be and it’s terribly rude to keep a lady waiting.” Alinejad said.

Gil remembered abruptly, that he also had somewhere to be as well and dug his watch out of his pocket. Thankfully, he had shoved it in his pants pocket that morning, so it survived the lab accident. He checked the time. It was a quarter past eight. That couldn’t be right. He and Roche had stopped for lunch. Gil raised the watch to his ear. The watch ticked methodically, he’d remembered to wind it. Gil shook it as if that would somehow change the time. It did not.

“Ah there you are!” Alinejad called distracting Gil from his temporal frustration.

Gil looked up to find Roche trotting down the hallway in a fresh new shirt and coat, the food basket swinging on his arm. Roche waved at them as he made his way over. When he’d got within ten paces, Alinejad strode forward to meet him. Alijenad scooped up the smaller man into a crushing hug.

“Hail friend, it has been a long summer since I have beheld your face.” Alijenad said after releasing Roche.

Roche tottered slightly when Alijened put him down, wincing at what had probably been a bone crushing embrace. But he mustered up a smile.

“Zaman! Good to see you. Care to join us in the lab?” Roche asked.

Alijenad laughed, “I would like nothing more, but we have agreed to meet with the Lady Voltaire and her motley crew this eve, and I would not wish to be late.”

“We don’t need to be there till nine,” Roche said dismissively, “Plenty of time to revolutionize engineering!”

“It is past eight, David.” Alijenad said with the exasperated tone of someone used to dealing with sparks.

“What?” Roche said with the same disbelief Gil had felt at checking his watch.

Roche had a watch that was strapped conveniently to his wrist. Gil was hit with a sudden bout of jealousy. Roche made a comical face of disbelief at the watch and tapped it. Then he looked back up at his audience.

“So, it has.” He turned to Gil, “Well I guess it’s too late for lunch then.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s dinner now.”

Roche proffered the basket, “and I’ll have to pass, we promised to meet some friends.”

Gil pushed the basket back towards him, “Actually I believe we have the same appointment.”

Roche looked thoughtful, but Alijenad turned to him in surprise.

“9pm at the Le Chat Vert? Collette Voltaire invited me.” Gil offered a little awkwardly.

“Well this has been a truly auspicious meeting then!” Alijenad declared his joviality returned, “Welcome friend Gilgamesh!”

Alijenad punctuated that statement with a hearty slap on the back, the force of it stung. Roche winced in sympathy at the sound it made. Gil congratulated himself at keeping his feet. Alijenad then led the way out of the depths of the lab, Gil followed with a tinge of excitement. He had never been particularly good at making friends. The whole mess with Tarvek was evidence of that. Yet, since arriving in Paris, Gil had more or less blundered his way into three friends. Four if you counted Colette, but even if that hadn’t been a strategic meeting between the favorite child of the Master of Paris and the Baron’s son, it was one facilitated by Tarvek. That wasn’t the same as Gil literally falling onto Wooster or bumping into Roche and Alijenad. The whole experience was surreal.

Alijenad and Roche chatted amiably with Gil as they made their way to the pub. They were both older than Gil and asked after his class schedule and made comments on the course content and professors. Roche offered commentary on which professors were resentful of sparks, and which were sticklers for things like citations and being on time to class. It was useful stuff, Gil wanted to take notes. He might’ve even actually taken notes, except his hands were busy devesting the basket of its contents. Gil and Roche ate with the veracity of sparks fresh out of a fugue, and Roche fended Alijenad’s greedy hands away.

Gil had initially offered to share the contents of the basket with Alijenad as well. Roche though had vetoed that idea and followed it up with an exhaustive but hilarious list of the times Alijenad had ingested and improbably large amount of food. Alijenad took the tirade with the same good humor it seemed he took all things. In this way they made the long walk to Le Chat Vert vanish in what felt like minutes, but was closer to half an hour. 

Le Chat Vert’s exterior was painted with an acidic green color that made it stand out amongst the stone of the surrounding buildings. A collection of tables and chairs had been set out in front of the building and a group of people who were clearly also students already filled them. The mini terrace was separated from the street by an electrical barrier. As Gil watched a drunk student careened into the fence only to jolt back. A burn mark streaked down his orange coat. The coat was covered in such marks, and the singed black streaks made the coat resemble the pelt of a tiger.

Alijenad led the way around the electrical barrier and into the pub itself. The interior of the pub was thankfully not as garishly colored at its exterior. It resembled the other pubs Gil had wandered into since arriving in the city. It was crowded with wooden tables that all looked as if they’d survived a spark breakthrough. A collection of wooden chairs in various states of decay, clearly made from different types of woods and even different carpenters were crammed around the tables. 

The far end of the pub was dominated by the long wooden bar that was clearly where the furniture budget had been dedicated. The bar looked as if it might be spark work. While its general shape was that of a large rectangle made of heavy hard wood, pipes and wiring swirled around it and the top and sides were covered with nozzles, dials, and even ovens. It had the slightly nauseating appearance of a mad boy's design. The oddest part of the pub, wasthe fact that students didn’t sit at the bar. They crowded around all sides of it, approaching with empty plates and glasses and leaving with full ones. Gil searched the crowd, but he couldn’t see anyone who looked like they worked there.

“Magnificent isn’t it?” said Roche at GIl’s side as they navigated through the tables, the crowd parting easily before Alijenad, “It’s sparkwork, the whole pub is self serve.”

“Really, that’s fascinating!” Gil said excited.

He was only stopped from rushing over to examine the bar by Alijenad grabbing hold of his shoulder.

“I have spotted our companions.”

Gil redirected his attention first to Alijenad and then to where he was pointing. Sure enough, Gil recognized Colette sitting at a round table. Next to her was a young woman in a practical suit dress. She was gesturing rather animatedly with a pamphlet. Colette appeared to be listening intently. Their third companion though, a man in an outfit that could only be described as sombre, looked bored by the interaction. There was no sign of Tarvek. Gil scanned the rest of the bar, but didn’t see any sign of Tarvek’s red hair.

Alijenad practically bounced his way over to the table with Gil and Roche following in his wake. Alijenad broke through the woman’s ranting with his greeting. His deep voice cutting easily through the noise of the pub.

“Greetings friends!”

The women turned to look at Alinejad, but the man simply nodded his head in idle greeting. First Colette and then the woman received enthusiastic hugs from Alijenad. The man instead was greeted with a hearty shoulder thumping, which he took with the same bored expression he’d been wearing when they arrived. Roche rather more reservedly offered a simple Hullo.

“I see you two managed to find Gil, thank you.” Colette said when it came time for Gil to say hello.

“Gil, I’d like you to meet Lady Lisette Perrault who is studying virology, and Knyaz Gunder Vili of Stockholm who is studying history. Lisette, Knyaz this is Gilgamesh Holzfaller who is studying engineering and medicine.”

“Nice to meet you.” Lisette said.

Knyaz nodded at him.

“I see you’ve already met David and Zaman.”

“Ah, yes. Roche and I did some work in the lab,” Gil said sitting down in the seat Colette offered him, it put him next to Alijenad and an empty chair.

“Oh?” Colette asked.

Thankful for a familiar conversation topic Gil launched into an explanation of the days work. Roche added in comments and explanations when Gil’s description got too advanced for everyone at the table to follow. They just reached the bit about the foam when a familiar voice broke through.

“Am I late? I could have sworn you said nine.” 

Gil paused and looked up to see Tarvek standing next to the table. He was wearing a bright blue coat and a metallic grey waistcoat. He was examining his watch. Gil abruptly remembered that he’d put on the clothes Tarvek had picked out for him and looked down at his waistcoat. It was the same shade of blue as Tarvek’s coat. He glanced at the ruined coat slung over the chair, it too matched Tarvek’s outfit. He frowned annoyed. 

“You’re right on time. The rest of us were early.” Colette said standing to greet him.

To both Gil’s and, judging by the expression on his face, Tarvek’s surprise Colette greeted him with a hug. Tarvek wrapped his arms back around her hesitatingly. When Colette pulled back she turned to face the table.

“Everyone this is Prince Tarvek Sturmvarous.”

Then Colette went around the table introducing everyone again. Tarvek got an eyebrow raise along with a nod from Vili, and Alijenad didn’t stand to greet him, but gave Tarvek a resounding back slap that sent Tarvek careening into the back of Gil’s chair. Tarvek made a mad grab for stability and ended up with one hand gripped tightly around Gil’s shoulder. The other hand had grabbed the empty chair and sent it toppling. Tarvek followed it down, which left him in a strange bent position with his feet out from under him, but his torso staying more or less vertical, via the strength of his grip on Gil’s shoulder. 

Colette burst into laughter at the display and Roche smothered a chuckle behind his hand. Lisette looked mildly horrified and Villi looked as if this was the most ordinary thing that had ever happened. Alijenad for his part, was horrified and surged to his feet. He hauled Tarvek up one handed, and picked up the chair with the other. Tarvek dangling from Alijenad’s grip by the collar of the coat looked rather gobsmacked at the manhandling. That got a chuckle out of Gil, and felt like decent enough vengeance for the bruises he could feel forming on his shoulder in the shape of Tarvek’s fingers. 

Alijenad deposited Tarvek in the chair like an unruly kitten. Tarvek fixed his coat rather determinedly, trying to pretend the previous scene hadn’t happened. 

“Well everyone is here now.” Colette declared clapping her hands once Alijenad had sat back down, “We can officially call this meeting to order. Welcome to the Gaurdians of Paris, this is our first official meeting of the year.”

“I thought this was a study group?” Gil said.

“Ostensibly,” Colette explained, “we do get together and study, but we also deal with issues Papa directs our way.”

“Issues?” Gil asked more confused.

“Mostly professors complaining about not getting tenure or their funding getting cut. Occasionally students upset over their grades, or assignment parameters. Sometimes we handle abominations that get loose, or occasionally petty crime and the like.” Roche explained, “We get extra credit for most of it though, which is pretty great.”

“Huh, well that actually sounds fun.” Gil replied. After all, wasn’t that what the Heterodyne boys had done?

Next to him Tarvek snorted.

“I’m glad you think so.” Colette said before continuing, “Meetings will continue to be Wensdays at seven, unless someone has a conflict.”

There were head shakes and no’s from the group, “Excellent, today’s meeting is to celebrate the start of term and the newest additions to our group. First rounds on me.”

Alijenad let out a whoop and the group rose to their feet. Gil bounced up as well, finally a chance to see the self serving bar in action. He followed along behind the rest of the group, Alijenad took the lead again parting the crowd easily for the rest of them. Tarvek hung to the back of the group as well, brushing shoulders with Gil occasionally. Gil determined to ignore him, he wasn’t going to let Tarvek ruin this for him.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the bar with Alijened’s bulk making way for them. On closer inspection Gil could see the little slots where one could insert money. From there you activated a series of dials and levers and the bar would produce either drinks or food. The food available was rather limited, chips, pretzels, cheese, crackers and assorted nuts as well as popped corn could be ordered. The drink selection was rather more varied, and he could see students inserting money into the slots for multiple nozzles to create cocktails. Nothing as wild as Theo’s concoctions, as no one seemed to be actively distilling anything themselves, but still interesting variations that mostly came in dangerously bright colors. 

The crowd around the bar was not as easily cowed by Alijened’s bulk. Instead one had to force oneself to a spot on the bar they wanted and apply elbows to get through. Colette who had promised the first round shoved her way forward with rather alarming enthusiasm. Though a few students who recognized her quickly got out of the way. Whether this was recognition was for Colette’s parentage, or the merciless way she applied elbows to the soft parts of people’s bodies was unclear. 

The rest of the group save Villi shouted orders after her. Alijenad followed behind her armed with a tray upon which Colette stacked drinks and snacks. Rather than buying enough for the table, Colette simply bought until she could no longer fit things onto the tray without risking it all tumbling onto the ground. Then Alijenad led the way back to the table and placed the tray in the center. Everyone settled back into their seats, and descended upon the tray. Gil figured if he didn’t grab a drink quickly he wouldn’t get one, so he snatched at the closest glass and plate.

He came back with a cup of sickly green liquid with a spoon holding a sugar cube balanced delicately on its rim and a plate of pretzels.

Tarvek seemed less inclined to join in the madness, and simply waited for what was left. He ended up with a glass of light beer and a bowl of nuts. He frowned at the beer but took a swig anyway. Gil waited for the look of disgust, He still remembered his first beer. He’d practically spewed it back out onto Slepiner. Tarvek instead of looking disgusted, looked mildly intrigued and took another sip. Gil wondered when the prince had had the chance to acquire a taste for a drink as pedestrian as beer.

Gil turned back to his glass instead. He supposed the sugar went into the drink, so he dumped the cube in and stirred before taking a swig. It tasted terrible, both sweet and bitter at the same time. It wasn’t however, anywhere near as disgusting as some of Theo’s earliest concoctions, the ones where his only goal was to maximize alcohol content, so Gil thought it was alright. He glanced back at Tarvek who was giving Gil the look of disgust that Gil had expected him to give the beer. He smirked back at him. Tarvek instead of being further offended as Gil had intended instead laughed so softly Gil saw rather than heard it, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the table.

Colette was telling a ridiculous story about some fellow named Othar who fancied himself a hero. He’d managed to get the Professor of Fluid Dynamics and Viscosis Categorization arrested. Apparently the professor was a very good teacher and well loved on campus, but was also sourcing many of his fluids directly from the Parisian population. Of course, the professor had responded to the arrest by unleashing a series of slime monsters. The aforementioned Othar had managed to defeat most of them, but some apparently had escaped to make a new home in the city’s sewer system. Sometimes, they still came back up the drains. The general response of the table was that Othar was the worst, and there would be no slime monsters and better grades in Fluid Dynamics if Othar had just kept his nose out of things.

Gil thought this Othar fellow rather had the right end of the stick. No amount of teaching qualifications erased using civilians as unwitting test subjects, and the slime monsters were hardly Othar’s fault. The name did sound oddly familiar, though Gil couldn’t place it. He’d have to go through his briefings again to find it. Tarvek for his part made horrified noises at all of Colette’s indulgent descriptions of viscosity. Something that added to the overall hilarity of the story. 

After that it was Alijened’s turn to fetch drinks, and he came back hoisting two trays. Gil began to wonder if there was some sort of ranking system that determined how much someone was supposed to buy during a round. Gil had been provided with plenty of spending money, but it wasn’t infinite. And he wasn’t entirely sure if his father would send more if he asked. Probably not, the Baron valued self reliance and practicality highly. If he found out that Gil was spending all his money in pubs he’d be disappointed, not furious like he’d probably be if Gil gambled it all away, but perhaps upset enough to simply recall Gil to the Castle instead. 

Gil took another glass of the green liquid in the hopes it would inspire another disgusted look from Tarvek, and tried not to feel disappointed when Tarvek’s attention was instead snagged on Lady Perrault who was telling a story about a lab accident like it was a truly horrifying ghost story. To be fair Lady Perrault studied plagues, so lab accidents could be truly horrifying. Annoyed and annoyed at himself for being annoyed Gil directed his attention to Alijenad who was telling a disinterested looking Villi about a trip he’d taken to Alexandria. Alijenad seemed to be particularly fascinated with the ancient egyptian’s approach to sparkwork and kept prodding Villi for his historical input.

Villi did answer all of Alijened’s questions and was rather more verbose than Gil had expected. Though he said everything in the same flat monotone that made even an in depth description of the mummification process sound as dull as someone reciting a requisitions list. Alijenad seemed unbothered by this though and continued on as if Villi had expressed a profuse fascination with the subject. Gil didn’t know much about the topic and was rather hesitant to ask questions in case Villi really was bored and was only waiting for Alijenad to wear himself out. 

Gil listened to the varying conversations and provided input when asked, but found he didn’t quite want to volunteer comments. When he did, he got the distinct feeling he’d said something wrong. To smother the squirming feeling this created in his stomach Gil downed more drinks, sometimes more of the sickly sweet green liquid and sometimes absurd cocktails Colette had assembled then shoved in his direction. After the first round Tarvek somehow managed to acquire for himself a bottle of red wine and drank that instead of the other drinks. His attention stayed for the most part on Lady Perrault. 

By the end of the night Gil was very drunk and very annoyed at Lady Perrault, though he couldn’t seem to remember why. Whatever reason it had started, it had developed into a vigorous debate over the best methods of preventing infection that had drawn in two neighboring tables. It ended with one of the newcomers making a point about hygiene while tossing a table before abruptly passing out. That seemed to kill the mood and Lady Perrault and Gil returned to the table with red faces, and clothes rather the worse for wear.

That seemed to be some sort of signal that the night was over and they spilled out onto the street. The exercise had rejuvenated Gil and he felt rather more sober then he had when it started. Which was enough to realise that he’d made a bit of a fool of himself. The others didn’t seem bothered, Alijened had given him a bone crushing hug and Colette had kissed his cheek. Still, Gil was feeling rather embarrassed as he made his way home. He walked for a while with Roche and Tarvek. Then Roche split off with a clap on the shoulder for Tarvek and a promise of more shared lab time to Gil.

That left Gil and Tarvek alone as they meandered down the street. Though Gil had enough presence of mind to sense a plot. There was no way Tarvek was living in student housing. Not with his family owning a mansion that was large enough to be a palace in the most fashionable part of the city. He cast a glance at Tarvek once Roche was out of sight only to find him looking at Gil. The expression on Tarvek’s face was almost wistful and it made Gil’s intestines, already twisted up in embarrassment, flip over. 

“What?” He asked, the embarrassment twisting his words into hostility. 

Tarvek turned away. Then after a moment answered, “What do you think of the Gaurdians of Paris?”

Gil frowned. That was clearly not what Tarvek really wanted to ask.

“They seem like a nice bunch, they’re certainly smart.” Gil hedged.

“Yes. All sparks save for Colette and perhaps Villi.” Tarvek supplied.

Gil hadn’t known that. He knew Roche was a spark of course, and Lady Perrault’s voice had held the spark as they debated. He was surprised about Alijenad though. The fellow did not fit the stereotypes that Gil usually expected from sparks, he was so easy going. 

“And?” prodded Gil.

Tarvek slid his hands into the pockets of his coat still not looking at Gil, “Nothing.”

Gil snorted, “Sure. You followed me home for this.”

Tarvek’s gait stuttered slightly, though he covered it quickly, “I’m not following you home. We are simply going in the same direction.”

“Uh huh.” Gil was unconvinced. 

They continued on in silence, though Tarvek stayed tensed. Eventually they came upon Gil’s dorm. They stopped outside it. Gil was hesitant to enter before Tarvek said whatever it was he clearly wanted to say. It was curiosity mostly, that stuck his feet to the sidewalk. Tarvek stood there too, and for a whole minute, Gil counted it, they stood there in silence, not looking at each other. Then Gil gave up and started heading in, he’d gotten the door open when Tarvek finally spoke.

“Wait.”

Gil turned back to him, holding the door open with his body. Tarvek stood there chewing his lip. Gil counted up another thirty seconds before Tarvek spoka again.

“Why?”

Gil sighed in exasperation, “Why what?”

Tarvek seemed to mentally dig in his feet before he continued, “Why did you tell the Baron where we hid my notes?”

Gil was tempted to say something vicious and slam the door in Tarvek’s face. The question hurt to hear. Tarvek should know why. He shouldn’t have to ask. The act of asking was only tearing open an old wound. It was the we that stopped him.  _ Where we hid the notes _ . Tarvek was implicating him in his actions, but it was true. The hiding spot had been Gil’s idea. He’d never planned on telling the Baron.

“Why did you pretend to be my friend?” Gil spit instead, the truth dragged out of him by that ‘we’.

Tarvek looked confused, which would have been hilarious if it didn’t hurt so much.

“Pretend? What the blazes are you talking about?”

That was about all Gil could take for one night though so instead he yelled, “Oh, shove it!” and slammed the door.

He could hear Tarvek’s shouted “Gil” through the door, but he stomped loudly into the apartment instead. He probably woke Wooster doing so, but frankly Gil didn’t care. He slammed the door to his bedroom shut, to vent some of his anger. When the apartment hung in silence in response the anger drained out of him. Gil flung himself face down in his bed and did something he promised he’d never do again. He cried over Tarvek Sturmvoraus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Damsels in Distress. Find out how Tarvek plans to deal with the problem that is Zola. I have only the one paragraph written for that so far, so it'll probably be a bit till its up.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! There it is! I had a lot of fun writing Gil and Tarvek's conversations. I mostly write from Tarvek's perspective, so Gil was a nice change of pace. This will switch POV but Part 2 will also be Gil. Part 2 also introduces all my OCs for Gil and Tarvek's Paris friends. I broke canon a bit because I wanted a female spark. I have no idea when Part 2 will be up hopefully soon. I mostly write this stuff to not write my dissertation, and that's been stressing me to hell and back so soon.


End file.
